


Sleeping Beauty

by Emerald Embers (emeraldembers)



Category: CW Network RPF, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prostitution, M/M, Prostitution, Somnophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-01
Updated: 2012-02-01
Packaged: 2017-10-30 11:43:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/331377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emeraldembers/pseuds/Emerald%20Embers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Misha provided a very specific service for his clients, and while they did get happy endings, he didn't expect a fairytale one for himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleeping Beauty

Misha was a very open-minded man, to the point where other escorts at the agency liked to claim his brain had already fallen out. He wasn't too worried about what his clients chose to do with him while he was asleep provided they stuck to the rules, and security always watched from behind the one-way mirror hung above the bed to ensure no one broke them.

Confidentiality meant he never knew exactly what they were up to, no matter how drunk he got the security guards, but he knew that no one cut deep, no one injected drugs beyond what he had already taken, and no one bled or shat on him. Even so, he was still curious, and the more than generous wages he had earned to date allowed him to invest in something small enough to be sewn into the lining of the leather jacket he hung up in the room before starting each night.

Going through the video afterwards on his computer was interesting in a largely distant way, most of the clients having fairly straightforward tastes. He watched them make certain he was both unconscious and alive, some of them wanting nothing more than to jack off on his face, in his mouth, or over his ass, others fucking him.

Some chose toys from the selection by the bed, tying him up in positions that explained the stranger aches he occasionally woke up with, or pushing beads and vibrators inside him. He didn't know what they expected from that, given the sedatives left him unable to come, but they seemed to enjoy watching; he'd known this was standard though, given how many times he'd had to remove toys from himself before leaving the room. It was interesting to think that if his job were legal, the constantly flattened batteries would probably be tax deductable.

Some of them seemed devoted to trying to wake him, whipping his back, his ass, his balls, unaware that the sedatives also acted as anaesthetic to the point where he wouldn't have woken had they started cutting into him. No one would ever be permitted to do permanent damage along those lines, however - he was too valuable unmarked. Knowing that the security guards regarded him as private property was strangely comforting in that sense.

He was two thirds into the video, having fast-forwarded most of it because fucking and jacking off were fucking and jacking off, nothing unusual or worthy of further study, when he switched back to normal playing speed.

Misha did not find clients attractive by and large. Most of the men - and, occasionally, women - who bought him were disinterested in him beyond the holes he offered, and as such he found them uninteresting too. However, the floppy-haired and ridiculously tall young man who entered the room was attractive to look at, and curiously vulnerable in expression as he neared the bed.

Misha leaned back in his chair, started chewing a nail as he watched the young man sit down next to him, hand hovering in the air as if he was afraid to touch him.

"Go on," Misha ordered the screen after waiting for what felt like forever, then frowned in confusion when the man rolled him onto his side and lay down to spoon with him, burying his face in Misha's hair.

Most of the other clients didn't talk, beyond muttering about sluts and whores and the usual. Some were too afraid to, afraid he would wake, but most realised he was beyond contact and there was little point in shouting "Say my name, bitch" at someone who couldn't take offence or reply.

The young man had different ideas. "Hi, I'm - Jared," he said, stroking a hand down Misha's arm, no marks left as he did. Gentle, then. "I don't know if you can hear me. They said you couldn't, but -" Jared seemed to think better of continuing with that line of thought, sliding his hand further down, across Misha's stomach and hesitating again before cupping Misha's flaccid cock. "Fuck, you're beautiful."

Misha paused the video, bit his nails for a moment before opening up the suitcase he used for work and getting lube out. He had a feeling it was about to come in useful, pulled his pants off and set them aside before he could ruin them with pre-come.

He wasn't erect yet, but there was no harm in being prepared when he hit play.

"I knew it was you, Castiel," Jared said, lightly rubbing and squeezing Misha's balls in his hand, and most of his cock while he was at it - Jared's hands were deliciously big. "Your eyes are unbelievable."

"I know," Misha replied to the screen, watching Jared tug lightly on his eyelids to admire the colour that attracted so many clients.

"Unbelievable," Jared repeated before getting up again, settling between Misha's legs and kissing his slack lips.

Misha figured the lube had definitely been a good idea, and pumped some into his hands before rubbing them together and settling them between his legs. Half-hard wasn't hard enough for him to bother touching himself just yet, but it was close.

Jared started to strip himself between kisses, the body beneath his shirt enough to make Misha gulp, the body beneath his pants enough to make Misha's mouth water. He wished for once that he'd been conscious for a client, given it would have meant a closer view.

The cock hanging between Jared's legs was obscene, and he caught himself willing Jared to push it between his lips just to know that he had tasted it, even if he couldn't appreciate the taste at the time.

"Thank you," Jared said, before kissing his way down Misha's chest, stopping to suck and lick at his cock. No reaction on camera, but watching the video certainly got a reaction, Misha starting to stroke himself in time with Jared's motions on screen. Jared moved away from his cock after a moment, sucked on his balls once before turning his head to lick at Misha's thighs.

"You are something," Misha said, taking it slowly for now and knowing if Jared didn't last much longer he could always just skip back a few minutes and watch everything all over again.

Jared stayed there between his thighs, not yet touching his own cock though it was visibly red and sore with arousal, though he did allow himself some satisfaction in humping the bedsheets. Misha almost willed him to get on with it, and when Jared sat up and manhandled Misha into lying on his stomach, it was a relief. At first.

Misha couldn't help but curse, bucking into his own fist when Jared parted his ass with those big, beautiful hands and shifted down the bed to lick into him.

No one, no girlfriend, no boyfriend, had ever _voluntarily_ rimmed him before. They saw it as a chore, something they did to keep him happy once in a while, but Jared was on screen, moans muffled against the skin of Misha's ass as he buried his tongue in it. Finally, Jared started jacking himself off in between rimming Misha with his tongue and fucking him with the fingers of his other hand, and while the Misha on screen stayed happily unconscious, the Misha watching the screen came hard and fast, harder and faster than Jared did.

Well. That he hadn't expected.

 

From a moral viewpoint, Misha knew it was wrong to look up his clients when they had already spent so much money for the right to privacy.

From a moral viewpoint, he also knew that they were all aware the practise they had paid for was completely illegal.

Moreover, both moral viewpoints required a particular variety of morals that Misha did not possess.

There weren't many people with the money to pay for his services, even less who were likely to live in the same state as him, and even less than that who happened to be - or had family members who happened to be - called Jared.

Honestly, Google-fu wasn't so much a talent he had as an extension of his ability to be logical, and it was easy to narrow down the bars and restaurants Jared was likely to visit. Clubs seemed unlikely; Jared had struck him as lonely, and someone as striking-looking as him would not be lonely if he was happy to accept the club atmosphere of dancing, drinking, fighting and fucking.

Misha believed in fate, and more than that, he believed in giving it a helping hand.

 

Black leather jacket, blue jeans, white t-shirt. Not the jacket he had worn to that bedroom of course, but close enough in design it would hopefully act as a reminder when he eventually ran into Jared.

He didn't need to make much of an effort in the end, given Jared advertised his noticing Misha's presence by dropping and smashing a cup in the middle of an overpriced coffee shop. Misha feigned being a helpful citizen long enough to get close, helping Jared mop up the mess, and catching his gaze as soon as Jared stopped trying to avoid eye contact. "I heard," Misha said, and smiled, closing a hand over Jared's.

Jared's breath came out sharp and sudden, and Misha finished piling napkins onto the mess on the floor, handed several dollars over to the flustered waitress trying to get between them and apologised for the damage. "Want to take this outside?" Misha suggested, and when Jared walked out with him and completely failed to find words, added, "Back to my place might be better."

 

What Jared lacked in words before sex he made up for after it, although Misha struggled to concentrate quite as much as he wanted to after having the orgasm of a lifetime. Jared had taken the general concept of a sixty-nine and tweaked it just slightly, rimming Misha while Misha sucked his cock until Misha had to pull back to beg him to stop and just let him come. He was sweaty, sated, and so tired he wouldn't be ready for another round for at least another night.

Calling in sick had never felt so good - or been so easy, after Jared's cock had fucked his throat raw.

Jared talked and talked and talked, as if he'd never had someone happy to listen to him before. Misha doubted it was from a lack of friends - Jared seemed to have plenty of stories about other people to tell - but he did suspect Jared had never been in front of a willing audience.

"My dad would eat me alive if he knew how I found you," Jared said once he'd tired of storytelling long enough to return to stroking Misha's hair and kissing his hand; Misha didn't mind what people did while he was unconscious, but when he was, no ass-to-mouth. "How did you find me?"

"I'm not just a pretty face," Misha replied, kissing Jared on the cheek. Cock-to-mouth he didn't have an issue with. "And you're pretty popular on the Internet."

Jared laughed, wrapping his arms around Misha's waist and tangling their legs together. "I can't believe we're doing this. I've only just met you."

"You're the one who stuck his tongue up my ass on a first date," Misha replied, teasing, but happily finding the comfiest spot for his hand in the small of Jared's back. "This is a good reason to stay awake," he admitted, feeling almost normal for once. None of this had seemed like a plan at first, but Misha suspected Jared would fit into his life neatly.

"I'll make you happy," Jared said, the words sounding like a promise, and not an empty one either.

"Happy ever after?" Misha asked, teasing but not entirely meaning to be cruel.

Jared seemed to miss or ignore the tone of the question, and nodded. "Happily ever after."

Misha tightened his hold on Jared and decided he was going to help him keep that promise.


End file.
